A Box of Chocolates
by Crystalline Green
Summary: A place to collect fluff and nonsense. Expect infrequent additions of unrelated oddities, frivolous in nature; because I need something light and easy to dip in & out of. You never know what you're gonna get...
1. Cuckoo

_Greetings once more lovely people. I find myself needing to distract myself from the grimness of real life with a little fluff and nonsense. I think perhaps I will use this space in which to do so with whatever should pop into my head, so expect oddities and frivolity, however possibly to probably infrequently, we shall see._

_Suggestions or prompts may be considered, as they say, 'Can't start a fire without a spark'. I will do my best, or should that be worst?_

___Playing with other people's toys always was more fun…_

* * *

**1**

** Cuckoo**

There is an antique clock hanging on the living room wall in the cabin belonging to Beckett's father. It is ornate and beautifully detailed, festooned in leaves of the forest which camouflage tiny carvings of woodland creatures and, best of all, a magnificent stag stands proudly at the top, baying, surely calling out to the herd. The piece is crafted entirely in rich dark wood and when it catches the early evening light from the window, it shimmers. She remembers being fascinated by the clock as a child, finding something new to look at even after an age looking, imagining she saw movement in the leaves and of the tiny creatures, even seeing the stag's breath billowing on a cold winter's morning.

Kate was pleased to see that the clock had also captured her daughter's heart. Even when it wasn't in action, Lilly would stand below it looking up to the space it held on the wall. "Clock" was a new word, learnt just this weekend and it seemed her current her favorite, used often when she was drawn here. Her little girl, so similar to herself at that age, already tall with an athletic build, her chestnut hair is long with a slight curl to it, but she is feisty enough to not like anyone messing with it too much. She wants to be doing, not sitting around, not for any reason so long as she has an ounce of energy left in her body – which is essentially all the time.

She picked her daughter up and propped her easily on her hip, just as she remembered her mother doing with her when she was small. Kate set the clock in motion, beginning the sway of the pinecone pendulum with her free hand. Lilly watched with rapture as the motion continued, Kate saw her eyes tracking the side to side motion of the long swing. "Tick tock." The girl said almost in time with the clock, while the pendulum drove the gears within. Together they watched until Lilly directed her attention back to Kate's face. "'Gain" she said, demanding further action from her, knowing there was more to see.

Happy to oblige, Kate began to twirl the clocks hands, setting it close to the hour. "Nine!" Kate exclaimed pointing to the numeral on the dial. "You're in for a treat today." With less than a minute to wait, Kate focused her attention back on the girl who was once again watching dividing her attention between the pendulum and the clock's face, anticipation clearly displayed on her own. Her hazel eyes glittered and as the anticipation built she began to giggle, Kate could feel her small body coiling up, the tension mounting. A loud click sounded as the mechanism released, the girl had learned that this was the signal for action to begin, it alone was enough for another spate of giggling to bubble up from within her. The following loud chime from within the clock made the girl both startle and laugh with pure joy. She focused all her attention now on the small door near the apex of the clock, just in time to witness the door flap abruptly open and a small, yet startlingly blue bird, erupt into space, 'Cuckoo' the bellows inside blew. The bird retracted, the gong sounded again and the bird popped back. On her hip the girl bounced, jiggled and giggled, throwing her head back with renewed laughter after each cycle completed and reset. After the ninth and final time the girl was still fixated hoping for more. Kate knew what came next and the girl did not let her down. "One more time." She said, both hoping for and knowing that Kate would indulge, at least once more.

Playing the game though Kate asked "Again?!" in mock incredulity. Bringing forth yet more merriment, from her beautiful little girl.

"More." She nodded her confirmation, eyes wide and expression of pure love.

"You got it." she said placing a quick peck on her nose, then her check and finally blowing a raspberry on her neck which caused her to squirm and shriek with musical laughter. A sound Kate would never ever tire of hearing, it was her favorite thing in the world, her everything.

* * *

The clock left a lasting impression.

Weeks later Castle had been tasked with driving them to collect Alexis from the airport, returning from a trip to catch up with some college friends. Kate was in the back with her girl, not a bad place to be in her opinion, but it felt slightly strange. Alexis was already waiting as Castle pulled up, he jumped out to greet her with kisses and hugs before he helped her load her cases in the trunk.

"Hey you guys." She greeted occupants in the back having clambered into her seat, immediately turning see them. "There's my Lilly!" she called with exuberance.

Her little sister bucked in her seat kicking her legs out wanting out of her seat to claim her hug. "'Lexi, 'Lexi," she chanted.

Alexis clambered further back, sneaking in a quick kiss "You get a hug when we're home, 'kay Squirt?" then she looked to Kate, "You too." she said with a smile.

Castle was back behind the wheel positively buzzing with energy. "Everyone buckled up?" he asked loudly, waiting for the affirmative from everyone before he would pull back out into traffic.

Just as he was filtering towards the freeway, a cab cut them up forcing Castle to slam the breaks on hard. Although they were not traveling excessively fast, the momentum of the rapid stop affected everyone. Castle only just held his tongue, or rather he managed to not swear, Alexis Likewise. Kate's attention was drawn first forward to the cause of the incident, but swiftly to her little girl in her car seat next to her. She however found nothing alarming about the whole thing, indeed as the momentum brought her forward rapidly, her harness pulling at her shoulders, her little voice piped up "Cuckoo!"

Despite her shock of the rapid stop and probable near miss, Kate found herself laughing with her daughter. Here, as always she found her little Lilly utterly captivating, so innocent and effervescent, already showing signs she would take after Castle with the quick creativeness of her mind.

However shortly after, as Kate calmed down and once the cab had pulled away leaving their path clear to go once more, she rolled her eyes and puffed out her cheeks in relief.

"Hey, Castle?" she called to him from behind his driver's seat. "No more Cuckoo stops."


	2. Clinging

_Hijacking the 'cuddles/hugs' whatsit I've seen some of you guys writing on here, not sure of the etiquette of joining in - pretty sure this is not the correct way, sorry - but I can't stop my brain and my fingers connecting especially when the laptop is close by. Anyhow I hope you will excuse me borrowing one of the headers, because this popped in there as soon as I saw it._

* * *

**2**

**Clinging**

Castle found himself awestruck. He did the only thing he possibly could, he supported her weight as she leaned up against him clinging to his neck, her body shaking with the intensity of the experience. This was it, the end game, after hours of waiting, feeling useless as she worked through the process, finding her way, allowing her instincts to guide her. Here as was often the case, they seemed to be bang on the money, she trusted her body, listened to everything it was telling her and allowed herself to become a slave to it, never resisting she worked with it.

Her breathing became deep and controlled as she focused on just this one thing. The heat of her breath on the tender skin of his neck was quite stunning. She was running hot, her exertion bumping up her body temperature up even more in this already very warm room. He made a mental note to ask if she wanted a cold compress just as soon as this was over. If she didn't, he thought he might be in need of one himself. She was a furnace, heat radiating to him through the fabric of her once loose fitting vest top. She had also stolen a pair of his favourite boxers, claiming they were the only thing comfortable enough to wear.

He felt her reach the zenith, the tension lessening in her arms and hands which had been exerting pressure on his shoulders and neck which had become painful in her powerful embrace, but he could not, would not, complain. He always said she was extraordinary, but until this day he had absolutely no idea of how profoundly, deeply true that statement was. 'You have no idea' she had said to him once, long ago and again he could not have anticipated the depth of her strength, courage and determination, or the extent to which she could draw upon them when she required. Of course he had seen each of those things and more from her since that time and he was well aware of the ferocity she harboured within, which she channelled into productivity, especially with regard to her work. But since he had been with her, he also felt the ferocity of her love. It frequently left him reeling, as he was now, he was dizzy with it. What was especially rare was that her ferocity was twinned with compassion, it made her a great detective, a great woman and lover and he had no doubt she would be great once more in her new role, just about to begin in this next chapter of her life, that of a mother. Soon now, very soon.

"That's it," he murmured into her ear, he felt her coming down, slowly relaxing into him now, "God, Kate, you're doing so well." This was all so very different from the last time in was in this position, then he had been with a woman who was a shrieking, freaking mess and she only had to make it to the hospital, where a C-section would be performed.

But now he sensed the power of Kate in a whole new way, her quiet yet steely determination washing away all the doubts she had spoken of in the days leading up to this one. Her fear was gone, she welcomed her labour, she felt invigorated and motivated, she knew exactly what she had to do. Everything leading up to the long awaited, highly anticipated moment they would meet their child. And she longed for it.

Castle worked his hands over her lower back, kneading into her muscles there, trying to relieve some of the tension and pain he knew she had been enduring all day. "You take my breath away."

She eased back as she temporarily reclaimed control of her body once more. Pulling back to see him, still lightly resting her hands on his shoulders, her eyes flashed. Even with her pupils widely dilated as they were, he could clearly see that hazel of her irises had turned to green. Long ago he learned this could serve as a warning, signposting 'danger'. In the early days, failing to notice had cost his ear dearly, however the colour of her eyes changed in moments of passion and also when she teased the green reflected her mirth. While sometimes confusing, he knew her well enough to know the difference - most of the time. He thought perhaps now there was a little of all three mingled in together.

"Your breath?" she asked, a slight twitch of the eyebrows soon followed by that of her mouth, as she fought to regain hers. She sucked in huge lungfuls of recovery breaths, flooding her system with oxygen, she knew she was soon going to need it along with all the strength she could muster.

"Anything you need?" he asked "You're roasting. A cold compress, maybe some more ice chips?"

She shook her head, "No, not just now, I have everything I need right here." She closed in to give him a soft kiss, putting everything she no longer had the energy to say into it.

Slowly parting, they said in unison "I love you".

"We're close Castle," she said holding his gaze with her own, already feeling the rising of the next onslaught "really close." her words becoming pinched as she leant in once more, taking comfort in the closeness of him, assuming the most comfortable position she possibly could.

"Already?" he asked, glancing at the clock on the wall, taking notice of the time, and how little had elapsed since the last one.

"Mm-hmm" she gave her hummed response and settled against him, but soon she began to rock on the balls of her feet, he compensated instinctively, mirroring her movements giving maximum support and allowing her the freedom of movement her body was demanding. "'S good" she breathed as they performed their strange clinging hug-come-dance.

Castle heard the door creak as it opened, and their midwife breezed in. She stood just inside, observing the couple, giving them space as they worked their way through Kate's contraction. They were doing remarkably well. Some women, especially those for whom this was their first baby, would shout and curse, others became hysterical, but others were focused and calm throughout, the same could be said for their partners. So far, the later had described this couple and judging by the progress they had already made, experience told her that it would not change for them, so long as everything continued to run smoothly.

Kate let out a soft moan of discomfort as her contraction peaked, her breath momentarily stolen away from her, but slowly she felt it tapering off and welcomed the rest that came with it, though she still rocked with Castle, now finding her mind sufficiently free to enjoy their closeness.

"Mind if I cut in?" Ray asked as she approached them. "How're we going in here?" Castle liked the midwife, she was small and had a boyishness about her. She had scruffy hair, a little like Kate's had been when they first met, but even shorter than hers had been. Ray had an ease and warmth of personality which made her instantly likeable, but she also exuded professional confidence. Yes, it was fair to say she reminded him of Beckett in more ways than just similarities in hairstyle. Ray was part of the reason they had chosen this facility, they had committed staff for each of their clients and Ray had been with them right though the planning process. The centre also impressed, with its relaxed unobtrusive atmosphere, which both he and Kate felt they wanted, yet they still had the security the facility and its trained staff had to offer.

Kate disentangled herself from Castle and turned to face Ray. "Okay," she said breathlessly, "the last two were really close together and strong."

"That's good." Ray said, "Looks like you're dealing well with this just as you are, but if you change your mind about pain relief there are a couple of things we can try. Just keep that in mind." Kate nodded, though she didn't intend on taking the offer up, not if she could help it. She felt clear and focused and didn't really want anything to interfere with that.

Ray patted the bed, "Hop up here, we'll see how close you really are." Kate shucked the boxers and ungainly manoeuvred herself onto the bed with Castles help, opting to crouch on her hands and knees. Castle stayed close by, gathering cushions to support her, placing them just where she needed them without having to be told. "You've got a good one there Kate." she smiled, giving Castle a wink. "Have you felt like you have the urge to push yet?"

"No, not quite, but I feel like I might be close. I guess I would describe it as steadily increasing pressure." Kate replied and just as she said that, she felt her muscles begin to tighten once more. Castle must have read the tell-tale signs, his hands began roaming soothingly over her back, while Ray gave Kate the once over.

"Good news Kate, you're nearly fully dilated. Won't be long now." Kate found rocking really helped so she continued her rhythmic movements through the contraction. "I'd say just keep doing what you're doing. I'll be just down the hall and will be back in a few, but call me when you feel the urge." And with that Ray stepped out, leaving them alone once more.

Kate made to scoot off the bed when the contraction ended. "I want to move a bit, standing helps."

Castle came to her, caressing the swell of her belly. "Almost there." he said.

She placed her hands atop his. "Almost there."


	3. The Watch

_This is for my Dad, whose battle is not with the bottle, but with cancer – one he is losing. Seeing him like this I feel the importance of remembering all the better times, the fun we've & the lessons he has taught me. It has made me appreciate all the things he's done for me. While he is not my Biological father, he's the only dad I have ever known. I love you. x_

* * *

She had been in the hospital for 18 hours already, and she felt the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on her. Beckett sat beside her father's bed, the hiss and puff of the respirator a constant in the room. He had been put in a medically induced coma, in an attempt to relieve pressure on his brain and buy him time to heal.

Typically the call had come at near the end of a long shift at work, then already drained, she found herself thrown into emotional turmoil once more. On some level she had been expecting a call like that for some time, it was only a question of when and how. She listened to the information given to her, feeling adrenalin begin to flush through her veins, but she would not allow herself to become panicked. She would hold herself together now as she always did, gathering her fear and compressing it, making it small. She would deal with it through action, this was her coping strategy and it worked for her, for the most part.

She had excused herself from work, giving her Captain the information she had. He was already well aware of her father's situation, and his dependence on Beckett when things were bad. She had earned the respect she now received and just as she was about to rush out, he called after her. "Beckett, let me know if you need more time tomorrow or after, it's yours. Keep me apprised."

"Thank you Sir" she breathed and felt the weight of her captain's support lighten her load somewhat.

She wasted no time and arrived at the hospital in a little under half an hour. When she arrived he had been in surgery. She received an initial update and summation of the accident. On an icy New York day he had been out, probably touring his regular bars, which meant he had almost certainly been on it all day and would have by then been very drunk. However over time, his resistance had been built up and what would have certainly have put your average drinker down on their ass, was something he outwardly seemed to cope remarkably well with, but that didn't change the fact that there was an enormous amount of alcohol in his system, which brought its own inherent risks.

Fortunately he always had the sense to not drive, instead he used the subway and today on making his approach to the steps, he had slipped. In his inebriated state he hadn't been able to prevent the fall. Avoiding the rush hour, there were people available for assistance, but not bodies to hamper and therefore break his fall. He had tumbled down, cracking his head on the way at least a couple of times the first one knocking him out cold, which meant he took the unforgiving concrete drop completely uncontrolled. The first break in the steps hadn't slowed his momentum sufficiently, he tumbled again.

The result was a multitude of fractures. To his ribs, arm and most worryingly of all his skull and a traumatic brain injury. His surgery had lasted for hours and Beckett had endured the wait all alone. Eventually she had received optimistic news from the surgeon, they had managed to stabilise him and initial signs seemed encouraging, though they warned that the next few hours would be crucial. He would almost certainly remain in intensive care over-night, possibly longer depending on how he responded.

She had dozed fitfully, never feeling rested once she had been roused, which between working hospital personnel and alerting noises from the machines her dad had been hooked up to, was frequent. As if the stress alone wasn't enough to keep her from being able to rest.

For now she could only wait and talk to him without hope of response. But helped her, if not him, to do so. She found her mind returned to moments from her childhood, things they had done together, in happier days before they lost her mom, his wife.

"I remember you buying me my first bike. The smell in the shop; new rubber and exotic oils, totally unique. When I bought my first motorcycle it smelled exactly the same, I think that was a major factor in making up my mind to buy. I could say it was your fault you know, even though you didn't want me to ride one, it was you who started me out on that path."

* * *

He had taken her to the shop, on a sunny Saturday morning. Already that day her Mom had made one of her special breakfasts, almost certainly in anticipation of them not returning right away once they had made their purchase. She was right.

Her dad allowed her to choose the one she wanted, he bent down to Kate's level surveying the rows and rows of shiny machines. Some mounted on the walls, others suspended on raised stands, others resting in racks on the floor. "Which one takes your eye Katie?"

Young Kate Beckett toured the whole area. She ran her already analytical eye over each and every bike in the shop, not just the children's ones, but the adult size ones too. Their gears and break mechanisms were fascinating. Her father never rushed her with any of her decisions, in fact he actively encouraged all her interests and enquiries. He loved watching her sort through her thoughts and relished her questions as to why or how things worked. He noted her interest here, so he began explaining about the bikes mechanisms, what they were called and what they did.

Kate liked it best when she asked something he didn't know the answer to. "Lets find out, shall we?" he would say, and together they would look for answers in books, often prompting a visit to the library, or by asking someone who they thought would know. Together they would research the answers, all the while developing and broadening her interests, simultaneously satisfying and deepening her curiosity in the process.

She soon dismissed all the pink 'girly bikes', instead she was drawn to a chrome framed BMX, with chunky tires, padded with red guards on the handlebars and cross beam, and a matching red saddle and wheels. Kate being only four, it was a small bike, but she had loved it instantly. For the first couple of weeks she had been content to trundle around with stabilising wheels attached to the rear wheel, but soon little Kate Beckett decided she wanted to ride free of them. Her dad took Kate and her now two wheeled bike to the park, they found a long section of path, straight and flat, lined with grass on both sides. No helmet or pads back then, her dad was her only safety net.

She remembers the odd sensation as she sat on the saddle, the bike tilting awkwardly, even with her dad holding her upright with a hand on the seat and another supporting the handle bars. They covered the length the path several times over with him holding her up while she got a feel for it, gradually getting faster and without realising it, she was soon finding the point of balance. Unbeknown to Kate at the time, her dad was able to gradually lessen his degree of support, eventually lifting his hand from the handlebars, giving her full control over her steering.

"You've got it Katie!" he said, now running at an awkward crouch to keep up while she cranked the pedals with increasing confidence and fluidity of movement. He felt it when she had the bike perfectly balanced, and dared to let go completely. He slowed his run, watching his little girl as she rode off.

"Don't let go!" he heard her say, already fifteen yards separating them.

"I wont!" he called over the ever widening distance. Of course that tipped her off, causing her to attempt awkward glance back and soon after a panicked wobbling stop, which she almost managed but at the last moment - when she needed to disengage her feet from the pedals, which, up until that point hadn't been necessary and was therefore a totally foreign idea - she lost control. The bike ditched to the left and Kate spilled with it.

She remembers being so angry that he had let her fall, she was shaken up and her elbow was grazed and stinging. Her dad scooped her up and she clung to him even so. "Why did you let go?" she cried.

"Because you, my little Spitfire, were riding too fast and I couldn't keep up." His smile was all encompassing, brighter than the sun that day. "You did it Katie, you did it."

Realisation and belief settled upon her simultaneously, "I can do it?" There was only the slightest hint of a question in it. But her dad recognised it for what it was and he was quick to affirm her tenuous self-belief.

"You can do it." He confirmed proudly, as always he was keen to show her. He pressed a huge kiss to her head. "You're the best and I love you so much." She felt his confidence in her bolster her, the discomfort of her scraped elbow instantly forgotten. She smiled with her dad and hugged him with everything she had.

"Do you want to go again?" he asked, already knowing what her answer would be.

With hardly a moment's hesitation, Kate said "Yes" and with one extra squeeze Jim Beckett popped her back on her feet and together they righted her bike. By the time they were both worn out, Kate was able to set off alone, ride and steer, and even stop safely - without crashing.

* * *

Sitting with him now she relates her memories of this event, telling him the stories of their shared past, and how special they are to her, of how they shaped the person she has become. And while the terrible event of her mother's murder and thereafter her father's downward spiral, have beaten both of them down, these moments and memories can never be taken from her, not so long as she holds fast to them. As she talks, her memories begin to flow in a stream, she gives voice to them as they come to her, each one leading to the next.

"Remember the trick with the boiled egg?" she asks holding his hand, still talking to him, but lost now, in her own mind.

Sunday mornings were lazy in their house, her dad would comb over the Sunday papers during breakfast and Kate's mom would sometimes make her a soft boiled egg with toasted soldiers to dunk into the runny yolks. It was one of her childhood favourites, still something she craved even now as an adult. It was a taste as rich in memories as it was in flavour.

After each and every time young Kate finished her egg, having scooped it clean with her teaspoon, she would turn the egg shell upside down and place it back in the egg cup. Then she would place it in front of her dad, who would on queue drop the paper to find the offered egg. "Daddy, I can't finish my breakfast." she would tell him. "Do you want my egg?"

He would thank her, collect her spoon and prepare to crack into the egg, always hovering just over the point for a second, absorbing and relishing the sound of her giggles. Then he would break into the egg with gentle taps until it shattered hollowly. Finding the shell empty he would pull a face of shocked disappointment, then he would exclaim "You tricked me again!" which would of course delight Kate and make her laugh even more.

* * *

Sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair she smiles at the silliness her dad had cultivated, "It never seemed strange that you would fall for it every time."

Then she remembers the time they decorated her bedroom. Again she had been responsible for choosing the colour scheme she wanted, he accepted her choice without question, even though thinking about it now she wonders how her 7 year old mind had worked. "What was I thinking when we decorated my room?" She muses.

They went to the hardware store together to buy everything they would need. Her dad bought two sets of rollers and paint trays and two soft bristled brushes one for him, one for her.

They also bought paint in the right colours which Kate had selected from the colour cards, Yellow gloss paint on the woodwork, with both midnight and sky blue paint on the walls. "Guess I was never a girly girl huh?" By the time they left, their cart was stuffed full.

He talked to her about all the jobs they still had to do. In the days before they had emptied out all off her stuff, left large items stacked in the middle of the room covered in a gigantic white sheet. In the mean time she was temporarily sleeping in a guest room. They had washed the walls down, and her dad had painted the ceiling white, cleaned and undercoated the wood.

Before they had even got out of the car when they returned home, he asked "Are you ready to start?"

Kate eagerly nodded "Yes." They dressed in old clothes and set to work as soon as everything was unloaded from the car. She remembers the roller being ridiculously heavy in her hands when it was loaded and the way it would leave a cold spay of tiny droplets of paint on her hands.

Her dad was meticulous in his work, she remembers watching how precise he was in everything he did. He instructed her and gave her tips to help her as they worked side by side. Him working on the ladder at the top of the walls, her on the lower half. She stretched up on her tiptoes to get as high and cover as much wall as she possibly could. They worked up until dinner time, and by then they were both very hungry and Kate was worn out.

* * *

"And then you told me, years later, that you waited until I had gone to bed to go back and patch up all the bits I had missed." She chuckled with a slight shake of her head. "I decorated my whole apartment myself though, you taught me really well dad."

She thinks of the bear he got her. And while you couldn't quite call it a teddy, it was her soft companion, the one she took everywhere with her and remembers it being especially comforting when she was little and was feeling ill. The bear was made of cream fabric, similar to the texture of sheep's wool, so very soft and warm, giving back the warmth of her body when she hugged him tight. He had a brown snout and lovely warm eyes. When she was older she discovered that the bear had been hand made by a colleague of his and he had instantly fallen in love with it. He bought it on the spot knowing that his Katie would fall for him too. She had named him Bossley, though no one was quite sure how or why this came to be, they only knew that it fit and that he was her favourite.

Kate recalls the first baseball game he ever took her to and tells him to story from her point of view, that of en excited 8 year old, already with a massive interest in the game, which she loved because he did, because they played catch together and he would pitch for her to hit in the park on sunny afternoons. She remembers the sense of excitement as she walked towards the stadium hand in hand with him and how huge it felt as the shadow of the stand fell over them on their approach.

Even now, she is incapable of walking past a hotdog vendor without thinking of that day. And even without the aid of the smell of hot franks, cooking onions alone will often do the trick and she will think of her dad.

It is then that she realises just how much she has been missing him over the years he has been lost, battling his own grief and then addiction. It catches her unaware and it chokes her, constricting her throat as hot tears spill silently. Kate allows herself a rare moment where she lets her grief have her. She realises that without him, a large part of her history will be lost. She remembers a lot, but she knows he would remember so much more. She succumbs to the grief of having that link, not only to him, but to her mom also, severed.

She hopes beyond hope, that he will pull through this, and he will have the chance to re-do this conversation, this time with him. "Pull through this for me dad." She pleads and places a kiss to his head. "I love you." She retires to the slightly more comfortable sofa in the lounge, and sleeps fitfully until dawn.

* * *

The next couple of days passed in a blur, she worked a few hours each day, mostly paperwork support, then would head off to the hospital to visit her dad. She continued her story telling, covering everything from squashing his sandcastles at the beach as fast as he could build them, to the way at four years old she would scream when anyone tried to cut her toenails, and one day in desperation he handed her the scissors and told her to do it herself. She did, and that was just fine.

His scans indicated that the swelling to his brain had reduced considerably, his doctors were beginning to discuss the strategy for weaning him off the sedatives which had so far been keeping him under. While he had been unconscious they had also been treating him for his addiction and Kate remained cautiously optimistic that perhaps this could end up being a blessing in disguise. She dared to hope.

She was there when they brought him round. She will never for as long as she lives forget the look on his face when he realised she was there. His eyes were clear for the first time in a long time "There's my Spitfire." he said with a smile and lightness she once feared would be lost for good.

Tears spilled before she realised they were coming "Hi dad."

His recovery went well while he was still in the hospital. They decided he should have an extended stay, not only because of the head trauma, but because of his detoxification, which he was on board with. But Kate knew that the acid test would come when he was released, even though there was a support package in place for when that time came. Then it was all up to him, he had fallen at the first hurdle before.

On the day he was due to be released, she arrived having prepped the house, ready to take him home. She felt an odd mix of excitement and trepidation, promise and dread.

He was up and gazing out of the window at the rain lashed grounds of the hospital. "It's a beautiful day." he said, with a complete lack of sarcasm accompanying that statement, he turned to see her, a smile on his lips. She felt some of her worry drain away, her hope strengthen. What he did next bolstered her beyond words, beyond measure.

He held out a square black box, about big enough to hold a baseball, tied neatly with a yellow ribbon. "This is for you."

She took the package, tilting her head with a quizzical expression. She knew he had not left the hospital, he was to be released into her care. "What did you…?"

"Just open it." He advised. She nodded and turned her attention to the box, the pulled the ribbon to release the lid. Inside nestled in loosely scrunched black tissue paper was his watch. She looked up to find him looking intently at her. The question on the tip of her tongue. "It's time" he said simply.

"For?"

"For putting this behind me. For getting on with life. For letting the pain go. For holding on to you.

"I love you so much Katie, this time it'll stick."

And for the first time after such a promise, with her constant support, this was the one which was kept.


End file.
